


Crazy World

by Bluebellstar



Category: Kingsman (Movies), Mamma Mia! (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Businessmen, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friendship, M/M, Not for the purists, Slow Romance, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-01-18 17:36:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21280625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebellstar/pseuds/Bluebellstar
Summary: Everyone knows the story of Donna and the Dynamo's, of her failed romance with Sam, the subsequent flings with Bill and Harry. But what if that was just one side of the story? What if that was not even the whole truth? What if the three men had been as close for as long as the Dynamos?Love makes people stupid, and grand ideas need sacrifices. Three intelligent, stubborn, capable men. One Grecian island, and enough heartbreak and misunderstanding for hundreds of lifetimes. Another friendship that defines their lives. What could possibly go wrong?A retelling of the original film concept, with several major changes.Completely disregards Here We Go Again
Relationships: Bill Anderson/Rosie Mulligan, Harry Hart | Galahad/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin, Sam Carmichael/Donna Sheridan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. Uh, to be honest, I don't really know what this is. The idea struck me while listening to ABBA, and I figured I'd see if anyone was interested.
> 
> Basically, the premise is that Harry, Sam and Bill have always been friends. Sam and Donna are both idiots that are incapable of communication - there will be no Donna bashing despite what might appear.
> 
> Eventually, the plot of the film will come in, with some quite major alterations. Which is why I tagged that this is not for the purists.
> 
> Furthermore, this will disregard Mamma Mia Here We Go Again.
> 
> Oh, and the story will seem to jump forward in time quite quickly.
> 
> If I haven't scared you off, please enjoy.

Deep in the majestic Mediterranean Sea laid the deserted Grecian island of Alimia. This island had recently come into the possession of three men originally known as the Irish/English/Swedish Trio The Galway Guys. They had taken Europe and eventually the Med by storm, quickly gaining a reputation for good music and becoming spectacularly drunk in the way that young men in the eighties often did. They called it Getting Dublined, in honour of Dublin being the first place they got so plastered they woke up in the constabulary drunk tank in. On the soft white sand of Alimia, a handsome man of no more than twenty three stood, gazing out at the moonlit Mediterranean. A light breeze ruffled his dark hair, his arms coming up to wrap his navy blue blazer closer around him. To say he was well dressed would be an understatement in the same vein as saying he was merely handsome. With his dark hair, sparkling aquamarine eyes and fair Irish skin, he was breathtaking in the same way as the Fae of his homeland's mythology. A clang and some colourful Swedish cursing had him looking up towards a rather dismal looking jetty where a beaten up boat bobbed in the current. On the jetty, the English part of their trio rolled his hazel eyes in exasperation. The same breeze blew his dark brown hair into disarray, the silver threads in his black suit catching the eerie moonlight. To his right, a pair of white suit trousers were all that was visible of their Swedish friend. "Bill" the Englishman sighed, shaking his head. "Did you break your boat?"  
"No" Bill snapped, withdrawing from the bowels of his boat. His sky blue eyes snapped with irritation, even as his blonde hair caught the moonlight. "She'll be fine." The Englishman nodded as if this was news to him.  
"And will this be before or after Christmas?" With a growl, Bill advanced on him, fist raised.  
"That's enough" the Irishman called, joining the two men. He pulled his hands out of his tan trouser pockets, resting them instead on his hips. "Harry, don't antagonise Bill. Bill, get the boat going. We do actually have to attend our own farewell gig."  
"And Sam wants to see his girlfriend" Harry smirked, Bill making kissing noises back inside his boat. Sam glared at Harry, the handsome Englishman throwing his head back in laughter.  
"I regret rooming with you two at boarding school with every fibre of my being" Sam grumbled, but his eyes laughed.  
"That hurts, Carmichael" Harry said, clutching his chest in pain. "I would've thought we would have made you regret that back in Dublin when we woke up in the drunk tank and you were covered in our-"  
"You'll be covered in something if you say another word, Bright" Sam glared, Bill's cheer echoing around the island. The boat rumbled to life behind them.  
"She lives!"  
"Goodie" Harry muttered sardonically. "We're sailing across the Med for our final concert, relying solely on Bill Anderson and his Old Age Pensioner boat." He cut his gaze to their single, depressing cottage. "I'm so glad I wrote my will."  
"You don't have to come" Bill snapped, idly stroking the railing. "Sam and I can-"  
"Not do it on our own" Sam finished, waving them both onto the boat. "Now for God's sake, Bill, can we get a bloody move on?" They had plans for their lives after gigging, and Sam wanted to get on with them as soon as possible. His life was not going to be wasted. With two best friends to go into business with, a beautiful woman he loved, and all his life ahead of him, Sam couldn't wait to get started. Judging by the looks in Harry and Bill's eyes, they couldn't either.  
"Farewell dingy pub gigs" Bill yelled to the wind. "Catch us in six months!"  
"In six months I'll be doing time for GBH on my arsehole best friend" Harry smirked, Bill narrowing his eyes at him.  
"Nah" the Swede grinned. "In six months we'll be starting out in business and standing up at Sam's wedding to Miss Secret But Perfect."  
"Piss off" Sam growled, stalking to the side of the boat. Much as his friends' teasing annoyed him, he couldn't deny a wistful longing for their predictions to be true. Married at twenty four, that sounded perfect. "Six months" he murmured. "I wonder..."

Three months later...

Sitting in a tiny office in their only renovated cottage, Sam Carmichael fought back a groan. His head pounded, his heart ached, and he'd all but run out of the hair of the dog that bit him. With a sigh, he reached up and rubbed his throbbing forehead, forcing his bleary eyes to focus. Work. That was all he had left. Work, Bill, and Harry. All they had left was Alimia and their plans for their little slice of paradise. This had to succeed, else all his heartbreak would be for nought. Sam shook his head, and picked up his pencil again. He was an architect, more or less, they couldn't move forward with their plans until Sam actually designed the damn things. Across from him, Harry took a long draught of tea. He, arguably had the harder task; as the financial brains, he had to juggle their finances, their life savings and loans, to make their dream a reality. Out of all of them, Bill was the lucky one. He got to stay on his boat, fixing the thing, and wait for something tangible to do. The passion behind the project, the driving force, that was Bill. He dealt directly with the suppliers, the workers, all the people involved with the work on the island. Already, construction had begun on their hotel (the Galway Greece), and several of the smaller self-contained cottages Sam had perfected the designs for, but there was still so much to do. Club Steele and Club SOS were still in the design process, as was Bar Bond, and the Eco preservation area that Bill had insisted on. And that was not even including their own private facilities; the beach bar, their cottage (which had been built already), the main office, all the other things that were necessary for turning Alimia into the go-to hotspot for nightlife and vacationing. Adding to Sam's headache was the promise that everything would be as natural and sustainable as possible. The things he did for his friends and their consciences. He snorted bitterly; it was a pity that those he loved didn't seem to share the same respect for morals. "Sam?" Harry interrupted gently. "Your knuckles are white again." Sam blinked hard and snapped out of it. Harry peered at him in concern. "Do you want to talk about it?"  
"No." The single, harsh syllable said all it needed to. He didn't want to bloody talk about it, not now and likely not bloody ever. Harry just nodded, long since used to Sam's Irish temper.  
"How's Alec settling in?" Harry asked instead. Sam groaned but allowed the change in conversation. Alec Carmichael, his elder brother and owner of a construction company at home in England, had come over and won the contract to build their dream.  
"How do you think he's settling in?" Sam retorted dryly. Harry should bloody well know how; Alec was practically his elder brother too. "He's driving me up the wall, drinking us out of our vodka, and helping you lot stop me from drinking my bodyweight in whiskey every night."  
"He's settling in like normal then" Harry said, going back to their finances.  
"Exactly" Sam huffed, turning his gaze back on the interior design of Club Steele. For some reason, Steele had always followed them around - they were in the Steele dormitory at boarding school, the first pub they played at was landlorded by a man named Steele, and now they had a club called it. Funny old world, wasn't it?  
"Doubtless he'd be settling in better if you'd close up the liquor cabinet every now and then" Harry smirked, well aware that Sam could do no such thing. They weren't alcoholics by any stretch of the imagination, but they all enjoyed a drink.  
"That would rather negate my cunning plan of drinking until I am unable to remember why my love life resembles a dirty great storm cloud rather than the sunshine and rainbows it should have been" Sam snarked, glaring at the blueprints in front of him. A flicker of movement caught his gaze, his brother standing in the doorway. While Sam was dark haired, blue eyed and Fae handsome, Alec was more ruggedly good-looking (like Bill), with his sandy hair, green eyes and thicker build.  
"Never fall in love, little brother" Alec offered drolly. "It only causes more harm than good. Even with your Irish constitution."  
"Advice I could have used beforehand, Alec" Sam told him, refusing to rise to the bait. "And you're only jealous that I got Mum's Irish genes while you got Dad's Yorkshire ones."  
"Keep telling yourself that, Pretty Boy" Alec smirked, tapping out an odd rhythm onto his jeans. "I need the blueprints for the hotel. Your idiot friend threw my copy off his boat and into the Med."  
"Remind me to congratulate him" Harry muttered, earning Alec's ire. "I'm entitled to my opinion. Don't go planning any cement Harry Bright blocks just yet."  
"I'll try and resist the temptation" Alec drawled, Sam suddenly feeling too sober to deal with this and far more like himself again. It was hard to wallow in the depths of self-pity when his family was such a bunch of irritating, moronic half-wits. And when he'd more than brought on his own bloody misery. Why couldn't he have been honest? Why couldn't he have just called? His life was a mess, but nothing ever came from wallowing, and he was damned if he wasn't going to make something of his life. With that thought, his brilliant eyes came to life for the first time since his disastrous break-up. In fact, one could go as far as to say that they fairly blazed with passion.  
"Sam's back" Alec noted, smiling proudly at his little brother. "Now, I've really got to get back to work. So, if I could have the plans?"  
"Third filing cabinet on the right, look under G" Sam sighed, waving his hand in the general direction. "Harry, look into our financial situation, get me some wiggle room."  
"Oh, yes?" Harry hummed, looking up from his heavy books. "Why?"  
"Because this is nowhere near grand enough, old chap" Sam smirked, gesturing at the plans. "If we're going to sink our money into this place, we're going to do it with a bit of proper style." Harry shook his head, eyes glimmering.  
"Welcome back, Sam."  
"Everyone's allowed a little time off for heartbreak" Sam shrugged, forcing the pain back into the boxes it would probably occupy for the next twenty years. "Now, however, it's time to get back to work. Architectural plans don't sketch themselves."  
"From a builders point of view, they do" Alec smirked, Sam casting his eyes heavenwards. This was an argument of old, and not one Sam intended to indulge.  
"Don't you have work to do?"  
"Of course, little brother, I'll get right to it" Alec sneered, bowing as he left the room. Sam dropped his head into his hands, feeling a migraine coming on.  
"Sometimes I really hate him."  
"As do we all" Bill agreed wholeheartedly. His shrewd sky blue eyes swept over Sam. "You're looking better."  
"Tactful as ever, William" Sam smiled, shaking his head in amusement. "Now let's get back to work. We've got a deadline to meet." Harry and Bill shared identical looks with raised eyebrows.  
"We do?" Sam smiled brilliantly.  
"Three months, gentlemen. Now let's get cracking."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning after the grand opening. Our boys have bitten off more than they can chew. An old friend comes to help.

It was a beautiful morning in the Mediterranean. Waves flowed upon the immaculate golden sand and the brilliant sunlight filtered sparkled on the deep azure waters. On this pristine morning, the sun drenched island of Alimia shone like a polished jewel. Unfortunately, its inhabitants were rather the worse for wear. Alimia had opened the night before, flooding the island with revellers and the first of many holidaymakers. The success of the night almost revolutionised the term overnight success. For no discernable reason, every single thing just came together for the three friends. It was as if the very Gods were smiling upon them. Bottles clinked and wood groaned as a handsome if bleary eyed man levered himself to his feet. His black hair was in complete disarray, but his black suit seemed to have somehow survived their revels mostly intact - only his tie seemed to be MIA, thrown half-heartedly over a beer tap. Sam put his elbows on the bar top, casting a mournful glance at the many empty bottles of booze around the bar. A particularly heavy conglomeration of ouzo and aquavit bottles littered the sand around a passed out blonde - none other than Bill. Sam shook his head fondly, draining the last dregs of his Irish whiskey from his glass. Memories from the night before flashed through his mind, causing a smile of pride at how well it all went. Then, he recalled the later events - a bombed Bill cannonballing into the Med while yelling Queen's We Are The Champions, Harry getting soused and doing a slow strip tease while drunkenly mangling Karma Chameleon. As Sam recalled, that was when he'd let their staff handle things, and made his own way to the sweet forgetfulness of intoxication. But, if last night's show was anything to go by, they had their work cut out for them, keeping their little empire as fresh and successful as it could be. He fully intended on making their brand new empire as profitable as possible. Unfortunately, Sam knew that to do that, he needed his drunk cohorts awake and sober. Smirking wickedly, Sam weighed their emergency bottle of aspirin in his hand. In a seamless motion, he flicked it from his left hand to his right, and proceeded to unceremoniously chuck the little bottle right at Bill's chest. "Wakey, wakey, sunshine!" Sam called, deliberately pitching his voice as cheerful as he could. God, he loved being Irish. "It's a beautiful morning!" Bill groaned, waved his arm and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'piss off'. Sam chuckled richly - poor hungover Bill. The Swedes just didn't have the constitution of the Irish. "I'm not going to piss off, Bill. It's a beautiful, Grecian morning, our grand opening went well, and we have work to do."  
"You always have work to do" Bill informed him in a hoarse whisper. Sam waved a hand gracefully.  
"Yes, yes. So I do." He had, by his own admission, turned into rather the workaholic since he so foolishly ruined his chance at love (although she wasn't entirely blameless herself - certainly far from it), but Alimia was all he had now, and Harry and Bill would rather he be a happy workaholic than a miserable drunk. "Bill, you do remember that we have a company to run now? An officially open one?" Bill sprung to his feet so quickly, Sam watched the nausea appear on his face.  
"That's a dirty trick, Carmichael" Bill announced, pointing his finger severely at him. As if Sam cared, he was the one with the Irish temper, not Bill. Bill's temper was like being barked at by an angry puppy. "That's a very low, dirty, underhanded trick."  
"Well, if you don't want to wake up Harry" Sam shrugged, pretending to look unconcerned. Bill grinned wickedly, much as Sam had earlier.  
"And yet, I do bloody love you sometimes, Sam."  
"Oh, I know" Sam smirked, tossing his blonde friend a bottle of water to wash down the painkillers with. "Now, let's go find the Englishman."  
"So, an Englishman, an Irishman and a Swede walk into a pub" Bill began, chortling to himself. Sam rolled his eyes, glad for the protection of his sunglasses. And glad that Bill couldn't see his despair at his awful ideas of what was funny. Although, he did have to give him credit for being able to laugh when he was that hungover.  
__________________

Empty bottles of beer, port, and brandy led the way to a lone hammock strung between two trees on the beach. Underneath this canvas creation, sprawled a familiar sight. Harry Bright snored in the sand, wearing little more than dark blue board shorts and a black Japanese kimono. Bill chuckled to himself, shaking his head at the sight of their best mate. "Remind me to hire someone to shop for the bloke. Clearly someone has a sense of humour." Sam tilted his head, trying to see it from the best possible angle.  
"I don't know. Maybe Harry actually thinks that this is fashionable." Bill shook his head, wincing when it aggravated his hangover. Lightweights, his friends.  
"How can he? We've all seen the inside of your wardrobe, Sam."  
"Then why don't you both dress better?" Sam teased, knowing all too well that Harry could look like he'd just stepped off Savile Row if he wanted to - he just didn't, most of the time. Bill made a face at him.  
"Because not all of us feel the need to look like we've just stepped off a photoshoot for GQ." Sam smiled cheerily at his Swedish friend.  
"If you think you're being insulting, Bill, I'm afraid you've got another thing coming."  
"I always do" Bill agreed, shrugging like he'd accepted his lot in life.  
"If you ladies have finished flirting, can you tell me why I'm dead?" Harry groaned, eyes screwed shut in pain from the light.  
"Dead?" Sam chuckled loudly. "No, my good man, you're not dead. This is what's known as a hangover. You got Dublined last night." Harry groaned again, fingers pressing in on his temples.  
"You're a sadist."  
"So I've been informed" Sam agreed cheerfully. "Now, come along, Princesses; we've got work to do."  
"How could we possibly have work to do? We designed this place to practically run itself" Harry pointed out, overruling his hangover to protest. Sam clicked his tongue disapprovingly, knowing he was wearing his workaholic face.  
"Our opening night was beyond our expectations, but just because it was, doesn't mean we should stop improving. We've got a folder of teething troubles in our office that we need to deal with. Then there's the resupply, the next wave of tourists, tallying up last night's profits." Sam trailed off meaningfully.  
"Okay, okay" Bill held up his hands. "We get it, Sam, honestly. Let's go get some breakfast, and we'll do some work."  
"Remember" Harry interrupted seriously, picking up on the professionalism Sam was wanting. "We can't afford to get sloppy. We want Alimia to be as fresh in twenty years as it was last night." Sam nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly.  
"To the start of a dynasty, gentlemen?"  
"Long may it continue."  
________________________

The six months leading up to the Grand Opening turned out to be a picnic compared to what followed. In all their many, detailed plans, they never actually accounted for the unmitigated success of their opening night, nor the boom that followed. Everyone who visited the island wanted to meet the men of the hour, wanted to know the secret of their literal overnight success. There were never enough hours in the day to do everything that needed to be done; Bill was running himself ragged between his eco area and the boat tours he loved running, Harry spent most of his time on the phone with stock exchanges and financial advisors - trying to do what was best for them and their new influx of revenue. And Sam? Sam tried to do everything else. He singlehandedly managed Club Steele and Club SOS, popped in on the guests at the Galway Greece, and spent at least three hours every night doing paperwork when he should be sleeping. By the end of the first month, they came to an inevitable, exhausted conclusion; Alimia was too big already to run on their own. Alec tried his best to help, but he had already been away from England and his company for too long. As Alec boarded a boat bound for the mainland, the exhausted trio did what they had sworn they would never do; they called on their small but brilliant group of friends that had stayed on at Cambridge. Their friend Hamish (who had hated his birth name so much that he changed it via Deed Poll as soon as he could to Merlin) had agreed immediately and unreservedly, promising to be on the first flight out - as long as he could keep designing gadgets in addition to his duties as head of personnel. PR was still a problem, as any of their old friends knew them too well to agree to take on that particular burden. Bill eventually agreed to take it on temporarily, as long as they hired on new staff for Merlin to train. As far as Sam was concerned, that was an easy agreement - he and Harry had already planned on doing that anyway.  
_________________________

Six weeks to the day after the grand opening, Alimia was enjoying what Sam liked to call its daytime quiet. At night, the island was more active than a stag party in a strip club, but for a few hours around lunch every day, there was a period of relaxation. Sam considered it the most productive time of the day. Still, even he wasn't immune to the need to take a break; working too hard for too long would burn them out. He left his office over Club Steele (Sam's favourite of his establishments) and strolled out into the private courtyard. Harry seemed to have had the same idea, leaving his office (located over Bar Bond), and Bill was strolling out of what they had dubbed the Dock Office. They had all chosen the locations of their offices, and Bill had insisted on being near his beloved Mediterranean. All three of them were rolling their shoulders, stretching out aching back muscles and trying to look as though they didn't regret not investing in chiropractic chairs. Sam felt his back crack satisfyingly, and he rolled his head on his neck, managing somehow to still look like the executive he was. Bill looked like a beach bum, far too casual, but it worked for Bill like it always did. Harry had gone for smart casual and knocked it for six. Their long hours showed on their faces, a badge of weary pride. They had worked bloody hard to get Alimia, and they were working bloody hard to keep it, but it was exhausting. Footsteps echoed in from on the beach, a distinctive Scottish brogue drifting over to them. "So, this is Greece's hottest new night spot and holiday destination. I have to say, I'm impressed."  
"Good" Harry replied without missing a beat. "You're contractually obliged to be. You're impressed, Bill's happy, I'm proud, and Sam's thrilled."  
"Damn it, knew I should've read the fine print" the man teased right back, laughter lighting up his blue eyes.  
"Merlin" Harry acknowledged, eyes twinkling. Merlin nodded back at him.  
"Galahad."  
"You're not going to start that shit again" Bill groaned, shaking his head at them. "I had enough of that back at Cambridge."  
"For less than a year?" Merlin replied sharply. "Aye, I can see that. Really, it's a miracle you lasted as long as you did." Sam closed his eyes, praying for strength. What had possessed him to agree to this lunacy? He knew the madness that occurred whenever those two got together.  
"Harry, show Merlin around. Bill try and leave them be, we don't want Merlin to decide to go back from whence he came. If he does, you're picking up the slack. I've got paperwork to do."  
"You always have paperwork to do" Bill teased, grinning boyishly at him.  
"I can give some to you, if you'd like, Bill" Sam offered pleasantly, smirking as his friend rapidly backpedalled. Bill gave him the finger, Sam watching as Merlin and Harry went off on their tour, Merlin listening to Harry brief him on life in Alimia. As he watched them go, Sam felt himself smile; things were finally coming out perfectly for them. And Harry was happy, a near impossible feat to manage.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Thoughts?


End file.
